Broken Promises
by Philosopher Fictionist
Summary: Riddick's life takes a turn. R for sex, language, and violence. R&R... COMPLETE... Chapters 7,8,9, & 10 up... and it's still got a few twists and shockers. Feedback greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Broken Promises

Chapter 1

            A pair of blue eyes darted around the room, scanning quickly. The owner of the eyes had heard something, but wasn't really sure yet where it had originated, or what had caused it. A shrug of the shoulders, and another quick glance over a slim shoulder. A few seconds later, a lock was popped, and a thin, catlike figure moved slowly through the door. A light was burning, making Blue Eyes squint, wincing slightly. A flick of the wrist and sunglasses were drawn down. Less likely of being recognized, just in case there were tapes running somewhere. Less painful as well, even though those eyes had always been sensitive to light. Lighter eyes were always more sensitive to light – less pigment to reflect it away. Silently, a slide was pulled back, one round entering the chamber. No need for a scope on this one. That would be overkill, no pun intended. No, plain sight was all Blue Eyes needed, and god damn that light. A foot hit a weak spot in the ancient flooring. A quiet creak, and a startled pause. The intruder heard him start, could feel him looking up.

            "Marcy, I told you to go home. The account's fine. I'll fucking handle it myself. Just go home to your kid," came a voice. Blue Eyes could hear the slight twinge of nervousness in the doomed man's tone. A slight smirk. "Marcy?" _I'm not Marcy,_ Blue Eyes thought, the smirk widening into a smile. A shake of the head. Time for work.

            His back was flat against the wall once he realized the creak he'd heard wasn't his secretary. The masked figure shook its head, and he noted the reflection off the barrel of the 380 auto held in a gloved hand.

            "Please," he begged, his eyes welling up with tears as his fate hit him in the gut. He bent forward slightly, the dread turning into physical pain. "Please, I'll give you anything you want. Money, car… whatever. Just please don't kill me." His pleas got more insistent as the gun was slowly raised. The silencer worked well, but if anyone was in the building, they heard the thud and would come looking. The gun was replaced, and Blue Eyes was back in the ventilation system, making a closely calculated escape. No tires screeched in the exodus – that would be a dead give away. Instead, a sleek black Dodge Dakota exited the parking garage, and with the swipe of a parking card, was on the street, completely inconspicuous.

***

            Cassidy Hodge stared into the depths of the Jack and Coke sitting in front of her, reaching out with long, slender fingers to grasp the tumbler and swirl the liquid around. She had good taste, and her wallet suffered for it. Jack Daniels had been around for millennia, and that meant it cost a pretty penny. She didn't mind. And besides, she could afford it. She'd worked hard over the past few years to stash away enough credits to live on a whim if she really wanted to. She rarely did, but it was comforting to know she could. 

            He didn't know she knew he was watching her. He did, however, know that she couldn't possibly make out his features, and that made him less hesitant to stare. She hadn't changed, from what he could tell. Every now and again, she'd glance in his direction, making his hair stand up on end. He never understood why or how she had such an effect on him, but there was no denying it – to himself, at least. He watched her stand, tossing a few credit slips on the table and walking away, her eyes locked in his general vicinity, as though she knew exactly where that feeling was coming from. 

            She walked briskly down the street, her combat boots thudding quietly on the pavement. Her hand was clenched around the object in the pocket of her black leather trench coat, careful not to squeeze. You didn't want to do that with a hair trigger, unless you were willing to lose at least a few toes.

            She took the long way home, doubling back a few times, hoping to catch whoever was following her. That was an instinct that couldn't be denied – she had a sixth sense. Several, actually. After a half hour of avoiding her small apartment, she tired of the game and figured if someone wanted to follow her, they could either decide to leave her alone or die a slow and painful death. She'd had a rough life, and a few years previously, she swore no one would ever fuck with her again. Few did, and those never lived. 

            Still, she locked the door behind her – all four – and slid her coat from her shoulders with a nonchalant shrug. Her lips parted and sucked in a breath, but she caught herself. With a slight chuckle, she shook her head. Fuck the lights. She kept forgetting about that.

            Her apartment didn't look lived in. A leather couch and a coffee table where all that adorned the living room. The refrigerator was near empty, as were the cabinets, and only a small toaster and a two-cup coffee maker were all that occupied the kitchen counter. The bedroom held only a double mattress, on the floor, and a few pillows. Still the place was immaculate. The sheets were crisp, folded around the mattress tightly, military-esque. Three magazines lay on the coffee table, fanned out as though they belonged in a psychiatrist's office. The bathroom was spotless – towels folded neatly and hung on the towel bars evenly spaced from the ends, the floor was clean, the shower doors sparkled, every toiletry laid with care, and the slight fragrance of jasmine floated through the air. All over the apartment, actually – it was her favorite smell. It fascinated her that the smell of a plant that had gone extinct hundreds of years previously could be regenerated with nothing but DNA and a little creativity. It was all so sterile – no photos, no clutter… not even a throw blanket tossed over the side of the couch. She couldn't live any other way.

            She padded down the hallway and stopped in front of the closet, pulling the door ajar and stepping inside. Another door was hidden to the right, and she pulled it open silently. She removed the 380 auto from her ankle holster and hung it on a hook, facing the same direction as the other assorted guns hanging there. The silencer remained in place. A shiv was removed from her other boot and placed in a drawer. Her favorite shiv remained in a special sheath on her back. Just in case. The door was closed, and the backpack that had been slung over her shoulder was placed carefully in front of it. Just where it belonged. Accessible, but inconspicuous. She turned slightly, and a lazy smile slid across her face.

            "Richard B. Riddick," she said quietly. "How nice to know it was you following me all that time." She heard his throaty snicker and her eyes met his. She saw the glint of silver as she moved. As she walked away from the closet, the door swung shut and beeped. He should have known. Electronic lock. Passcode. No access to her collection of toys. 

            She felt his eyes on her as he followed her down the hallway. He stood behind her in the bathroom doorway, watching her fingers go to her eyes and remove a pair of contacts. One glint of silver and then two, shining back at him in the mirror. An affectionate smile.

            "Don't even think it, Riddick," she warned, her voice suddenly low and warning. He held up his hands in mock surrender. She leaned back against the counter, her arms crossed against her chest. His eyes flickered over her quickly, then met with hers again.

            "Hey Blue Eyes," he said quietly. Her eyes narrowed, and she shoved past him. 

            "You call me that again, and it's your dick," she promised. He grinned at her back, knowing she couldn't see him, but she would know. "And wipe that smartass grin off your face." She always had. He followed her to the entryway and watched her unlock the door, swinging it open and standing here, waiting for him to leave. His eyebrow arched involuntarily. She made a motion for him to walk through it, an exasperated expression filling her features.

            "That's it?" he asked. No response. "You're not going to ask if I want a drink?" She snickered, and he took that as a no. He motioned toward the kitchen. "I saw you had some peppermint Schnapps."

            "Nostalgia," she retorted. "Get the fuck out." Her words dripped with hatred, and the unfamiliar feeling returned. Guilt. He hadn't ever felt that until Carolyn. But fuck Carolyn. She was dead, plain and simple. Nothing he could do about it now, or could have done about it then. He paused, mere inches away from her.

            "I'll see you later," he whispered, leaning toward her.

            "I'm still packing, so rethink your future actions," she warned, her eyes never wavering from his. He paused, his eyes flitting back over her slim body. Still, he leaned in and his lips pressed to her forehead. Her hand slid behind her back, but he caught it, restraining her. Through his peripheral vision, he could see her other hand still gripping the side of the door, her finger twitching slightly. _She would, too_, he thought quickly. The gesture lasted only a fraction of a moment, and then he was gone. She stared out the door for a second before slamming it, twisting the locks so hard her knuckles popped. She willed herself not to lose it, barely winning. She knew he was out there somewhere, somehow knowing she was breaking into that damned bottle of peppermint Schnapps with shaky fingers. Her glass was refilled until her nose no longer detected his scent, and that was quite a feat.

***

            She looked up at the door upon hearing a soft rapping, staring at the carpet until a manila envelope slid across the floor. Her feet moved slowly across the room, and the envelope was caught between two of her fingers. She reached across the table and grabbed the knife lying there. It had been waiting for just this moment to be used. Two photos slid onto the coffee table and she cleared her throat, her eyes flashing up to the door and back down.

            "Wow," she breathed, reaching out to take a photo into her hand. It was pre-shine job. The mark obviously knew he wasn't being photographed, but she could tell from the expression on his face that he was a cautious human. "Hire the second best to kill the best?" she asked out loud. The empty apartment offered no answer. An uneasy feeling crept over her. Something wasn't right. And damn it to hell, this was a bad time to get hungry. Chinese it was. She grabbed her bag and left the apartment, locking the door behind her. It was already dark outside, and she was grateful. Those contacts did nothing for glare, but hid the mercury appearance well. Few people knew about liquid metal eyes, much less where they came from. Figured it was genetic, maybe. Still. No chances. 

            Her favorite Chinese restaurant was a dive, but they had damn good food. She bent over her noodles, her thoughts returning to the job at hand. It was definitely a step above the slime buckets she'd been dealing with recently. Most of them were stationary – same office, same hours, no problem. This was different. She didn't know how she was going to pull it off, but there was no turning down a mark. You lost business that way.

            The stroll home was a leisurely one, her thoughts consuming her. Cassidy Hodge was a calculating, meticulous, flawless killer. And the best thing was that no one ever suspected her. With her slim figure, tall stature, and natural good looks, plus the clothes she indulged in, everyone assumed she was born into money, and left with the rest of it when her ancestors passed. They couldn't have been more wrong. She'd only been caught once, and only got out of Slam City on a technicality. They didn't care. She was forbidden to return to Torvalis again, and had no intentions of returning. Her mistakes had been a learning process, and were never made again. Hence, the new planet, the old lifestyle with moderate changes, and complete anonymity. No one knew her, no one bothered her, and she just did her job. Her contractors knew where her "office" was, but they didn't know it was her apartment. They didn't know she was a woman, either, and it was going to stay that way. Completely clueless. The way it should be. 

            Her confidence returned, fleeing only for a millisecond, and she ducked into a bar. Scotch. On the rocks. The burn regenerated her energy. Couples danced a few yards away, and she watched with a careful eye. She felt his eyes on her again, and caught his scent as he strolled into the bar. No one else noticed him. He sat next to her, and didn't notice her tense. _Not yet_.

            "Fuck off," she said, biting her tongue before she spilled his name. That would draw attention, something she wanted to avoid as much as he.

            "We have to talk," he said quietly.

            "You heard me," she returned, her eyes never leaving the couples on the dance floor. It had to be a string of slow songs.

            "Dance with me, Cass." Damn. "I have to talk to you." Her eyes slid over to his. Her face reflected back to her in his sunglasses. It wasn't uncommon. Most times there were cameras or mirrors hidden. Streets were not safe here.

            "You heard me the first time," she repeated, her eyes warning him. He blinked a few times. The contacts didn't hide the expression in her eyes.

            "I'll make a fucking scene if you make me," he warned. She sighed and placed her hand in his, letting him lead her to the floor. His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her full against him. Just as he thought. Her breathing was even and her pulse slow. _Damn, that woman has control_, he thought. When she was sure he couldn't see her face, her eyes fluttered shut. With every intake of breath, her senses were filled with the smell of him. Exactly the same. "I've missed you," he admitted, his breath hot in her ear. She snickered, unable to keep it in.

            "You're the one that left." Point Cassidy. "Left me there while you broke out. Fuck you, Riddick." _Shit._ Name in public. Not good. Her eyes flitted around, but no one had seemed to notice.

            "You were on your way out, Cass," he whispered. "I didn't want my life for you."

            "Well, I inherited it anyway." She could have sworn he shrunk and inch at that statement. "What the fuck is with you?" she demanded, pulling away to stare into his… sunglasses. "Gone soft?" His cheek twitched. Point Cassidy. She shook her head.

            "Ten thousand credits," he growled quietly, directly into her ear. Her eyebrow rose.

            "Come again?"

            "Ten thousand credits." She shook her head, still not following. "A hit." He paused and glanced around. "On you." Both of her eyebrows shot up, and she pulled back even more, but he shook his head, his hand firmly planted against her back. The shock wore off quickly. She knew it would have come eventually, but how did he…?

            "Did you take it?" He paused, and it was all the answer she needed. "Yours is eleven." She swallowed. _That's it_, she scolded herself_, show your hand. _

            "Someone's playing us."

            "Us?" she questioned. He ignored that.

            "Hire the second best to kill the best, I guess," he muttered. His words struck her, and her cheek almost stung. Point Riddick.

            "Gee, thanks." Her voice was laden with sarcasm. She took it the wrong way – he meant himself as second best to her. He didn't correct her. It didn't matter. She'd come up with a smartass reply anyway. "Why are you telling me this?"

            "We've got history." He paused, her confession finally sinking in. "Only eleven? Damn."

            "Don't flatter yourself," she spat. Point Cassidy. "You were telling me why you showed your hand. Something, by the way, you taught me not to do."

            "You showed yours, so I guess neither of us learned." She sighed. This was going absolutely nowhere, and fast. He felt the change in her mood. The place was starting to thin out already.

            "Can we go somewhere?" She nodded against his shoulder. He handed a couple of credit slips to the bartender and followed her out the door. Mistake. The gentle sway of her hips, the dance of her auburn hair against her back, the scent trail. Big mistake.

            "My place. Don't follow me," she instructed. He nodded and broke away, letting her get there first. He needed to buy some time to think anyway. She was clouding his head at a very inconvenient point in time.

            The moment she walked in the doorway, a string of colorful words floated off her lips. This definitely wasn't a good position to be in. She wasn't afraid of him, but she didn't trust him either. Granted, he'd told her she was his fucking mark, but still. He was nothing but games. She puked and brushed her teeth as quickly as she could. Two next-to-silent taps on the door. His mercury eyes flashed in the peephole and she unlocked the door, closing it quickly behind him. All four locks were fastened. An awkward silence settled over them as they both sank into the couch.

            "You're a freak," he chuckled. She stared at him, her hatred shining through those damn contacts. He wanted to see those eyes. "I've never seen anyone's home this clean."

            "Slam will do that to you," she admitted, letting the insult slide. She knew she was no match for his strength. It wasn't worth it. "Fucking shithole."

            "You got that right."

            "Where'd the hit come from?" she demanded, the course of the conversation returning to the pressing issue. He sighed and leaned back, rubbing his eyes.

            "I don't know." Her eyebrow rose. He heard the slide of her gun click and his eyes slammed open, refocusing on the end of the barrel mere inches from his nose. Point Cassidy. "Where the fuck do you hide that shit?" he demanded, seeming unsurprised at her brandishing a weapon.

            "Where did the hit come from?" she demanded again, her voice unfaltering. Her hand was steady, as always. Any questions he had about her control were gone. She _would_ kill him.

            "Cassidy, I don't know," he said firmly. "And don't forget you have a fucking hair trigger." He nodded at her hand, satisfied when her finger moved away from the trigger and rested against the side of the gun. Safe, for now. Relatively. "Whoever it is knows we have a past, and probably has a past with us." He shook his head. That sounded completely stupid. "Someone we both know that has a problem with both of us," he corrected. "Don't get all pissy on me. You took the hit on me, so you're just as fucking guilty right now," he pointed out. She sighed and replaced the gun, flipping the safety lever as she did so. No worries about her foot. Her head fell into her hands.

            "Ten thousand credits." He sighed. "Less than you." She was too hard on herself.

            "Let me see your eyes," he demanded gently. She shook her head.

            "It doesn't look any different, Riddick," she said quietly. "The same as everyone else to us, but completely different when everyone else sees them."

            "You're just not looking hard enough," he stated plainly. She sighed and stood, returning a few moments later after grudgingly removing the contacts. He was right. She hadn't noticed it before, but he was right. Only a slight difference from others, but a difference all the same. "We have a past, Cassidy, and we can't change it. It was rough, yeah," he said with a sigh, "but history's history."

            "Why are you pointing out the obvious?" she demanded, her voice stronger than he expected. She really was a bad-ass.

            "Are you scared of me?"

            "No," came the quick reply. Truth, he noticed.

            "Do you trust me?"

            "No." Same quality as the previous negative. He nodded. Point Cassidy.

            "I must admit, Cass," he paused, searching for the right way to form his words. Her eyebrow arched. Irresistible. "You're more cold-hearted and well-suited to this job than I expected you would be." Good. It came out the way he intended. Point Riddick.

            "You can take full credit for both." _Fuck_. Point Cassidy. He sighed. What the hell was happening to him? 

            "I'm sorry." She took a step back, her face registering confusion. "I never wanted my life for you. You're too good for this."

            "Who are you, and what the hell happened to Riddick?" He laughed in spite of himself, a deep, throaty laugh. The corners of her lips tugged upward. His laugh always inspired that smile.

            "He died, I guess." He leaned back on the couch and eyed her warily. "Still armed?" A nod. Of course.

            "Still shiv-happy?" He shrugged, watching her turn and walk into the kitchen. She returned a few seconds later with two glasses, handing him one. She sat on the coffee table in front of him. Peppermint Schnapps. His turn to arch an eyebrow. She shrugged. "Nostalgia." His smile was genuine, but she didn't reflect it, and it fell from his lips quickly. "I hate you, Riddick."

            "I know you do." A twinge. That feeling again. Damn it. "Can I change that?"

            "Probably not." Point Cassidy. He knew he'd always had a soft spot for women – that became clear on that damned planet, first with Carolyn and then with Jack. He stood up to Johns for Carolyn, and then killed him for Jack. Several, actually, had he killed for a woman, and not necessarily for a woman he knew. Her voice was calm, but quiet. "You left me there after you promised you'd take care of me." She could have sworn he cringed. "After you promised you'd protect me." Definitely a cringe. "The few good parts of history were a lie, and you know it as well as I do." That pissed him off. His eyes flashed at her angrily, but she didn't flinch, didn't move, didn't waver.

            "I left because I wanted to protect you."

            "From what?" He paused, his eyes leaving hers. He said something, but she couldn't make it out, so she repeated the question. His answer was firmer than either of them expected.

            "From me." She swallowed. And here she turned into a female version of him anyway. _No emotions_, she told herself. _None at all. Weakness. He can smell it_.

            "This isn't getting us anywhere." She was right. He nodded, watching her reach for a manila envelope on the table. She emptied its contents, and sure enough, two photos of him flitted onto the table. He picked one up, trying to figure out when it had been taken. Not recently. Before his trip to the Slam. Pre-shine job. _Might as well,_ he thought, reaching into his back pocket and producing a picture of her. She took it from him, her eyebrows furling as she stared at it, mouth ajar only slightly. All that was on the slip of paper in her envelope was a contact number, which was always used only to report that the mark was extinguished and to set up payment arrangements. He grunted.

            "This is the same number as my contact." She nodded.

            "I think we've already established that it's the same contact," she said quietly. "So what do we do about it?" He sighed, running a hand over his stubbly head. He needed to shave. 

            "Flush him out. Find out who it is." He paused, glancing down at the photo again. She was beautiful. He closed his eyes and took a silent breath. The apartment smelled of jasmine and her. Shampoo, soap, and woman. He opened his eyes and nodded at the slip of paper with the contact number scrawled on it. "Do you call and confirm the hit, or do you just take every hit that comes your way?" She smirked.

            "I have bills to pay." He nodded. Every hit it was. No surprise there. Their eyes met and held for a moment. He dropped his gaze first, instantly kicking himself for it. She wouldn't ask again what was wrong with him – why he'd changed – and he wouldn't volunteer anything.

            "I take it you have a voice-altering attachment on your phone?" He smirked, and she knew he was referring to her hiding her gender. She nodded, her eyes glinting as he shifted on the couch. For some unknown reason, it really made him uncomfortable being caught in her gaze. He didn't know why, and he didn't like it.

            "I can't lose business," she said calmly, gently. He bit his lip and nodded. She was going to try to kill him anyway. She assumed the same about him, even though he had made an effort to warn her.

            "How fast can you pack?" he asked quickly, glancing around the room, trying to avoid her hard stare.

            "What?"

            "How fast can you pack?" His voice was slightly more demanding this time.

            "I'm not leaving, Riddick. If that's your big plan, you can leave with your tail between your legs and I'll just hunt you down anyway." He grimaced. Yeah, she was definitely going to follow through on the hit.

            "Look, I don't want to kill you, and you really don't want to kill me, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise," he said, standing.

            "You don't know me as well as you think you do." Her words cut through him, sending a shiver down his spine. _Shit_. She was armed, and he was vulnerable right now, standing there right in front of her. Before he knew it, she had tackled him. Her thighs straddled his hips, and a shiv was placed a little to close to his throat. _Fuck_. Point Cassidy. He lay there for just a moment, waiting, willing his reflexes to die down under her weight. It was a familiar position, and he fought for control over his body. No such luck. Her arm quivered slightly against his throat, pushing the shiv closer as the tension bore down on her. Definitely too close for comfort. She felt his hand slide up her leg, but didn't move. The other hand slid up her other arm, which was stabilizing her over him, her hand planted just beside his head. She'd known there was no use in pinning his arms down – she knew she couldn't win that way. This was just making a point anyway. His hand on her arm slid further up, following her neck up the side of her face and coming to rest on her cheek.

            "What a predicament I've gotten myself into," he said quietly. She blinked, unwavering.

            "Quit fucking with me, Riddick. Is this checkmate or just check?" He smiled. They used to play chess in Slam. But his smile didn't linger, his face growing serious. His thumb slid across her lips, and her eyes narrowed down at him. He pulled her face down toward his, feeling the shiv press against him. As long as it didn't slide to the side, he would be fine. Her hair fell around his head as their lips touched. The shiv fell from her hand, emotion taking over. What a reaction for a hitman. Point Riddick. His fingers tangled in her hair as he deepened the kiss. She groaned, trying to break free before it turned into even more of a mistake, but his hold on her was too strong. The shiv fell to the floor as he rolled her over onto her back, planting kisses down her neck. She tried to wriggle out from under him, but the hand that had slid across her leg to the small of her back held her firmly against him, so she stopped fighting and gave in. The memories flooded back, ending in a stream of tears running down her cheeks. He pulled away, leaning forward to kiss each tear as it slid down her cheek. "I hate you," she whispered. The flesh just below her ear was captured between his teeth, and her eyes slammed shut, her bottom lip pressed between her teeth to suppress the moan threatening to break.

            "No you don't," he returned, his voice rumbling in her ear. She felt the vibrations transfer from his chest to hers, the empty pit growing in her stomach. His mouth claimed hers again, and she could feel the possessiveness in the kiss, responding to it. He was just as much hers as she was his, damn it. His fingers tightened on the back of her neck, his moan shattering the silence as she bit his lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. He pulled away, his forehead resting against hers. "I took the hit so I would have an excuse to find you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears shone in her eyes still, and she blinked to release them. This was the first time he'd seen her cry. Not even in Slam.

            "I took the hit because I didn't think I _could_ find you," she said quietly, her voice quivering only a fraction. His brow furled, his fingers tracing the outline of her face. She snickered, and his eyebrow rose. "This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I tackled you," she laughed. His smile reflected hers as he leaned down to kiss her again, gently and quickly. He stood, pulling her up with him, her legs still wrapped around his waist. His eyes fluttered closed as they slid down the back of his legs so she could stand on her own. "Now what?" she asked quietly, still clinging to him. He wasn't sure if her legs had gone numb under him or she just didn't want to let go again. 

            "I don't know." He brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead. "I'll think of something," he promised. She nodded. He paused, searching her eyes. "Do you want me to stay?" She blinked and took a breath, pausing before speaking.

            "Yeah," she admitted. He nodded. "So you should go." His face registered confusion. "You took a hit on me and I took a hit on you. We shouldn't trust each other until after this thing's over." Fair enough. His lips brushed hers again, and he was gone. She ran a hand through her tousled hair and flopped on the couch, reaching out to take a drink from her glass. She fell asleep quickly, his scent lingering on her and around her. 

Cassidy, eight; Riddick three.


	2. Chapter 2

Broken Promises

Chapter 2

            He'd known she would leave eventually to stalk through the night. The darkness closed around her, but his time in Slam had given him the gift of sight, even in the dark. He hated to admit it, but he'd learned quite a bit there. Granted, he hadn't accepted most of it until now, but still. It had all been learned in Slam. Evidently she'd learned a bit from him during her stay in Slam City as well. He could tell that just by watching her walk down the street. Her eyes darted back and forth, hands shoved deep into pockets meant for concealing weapons. While they'd danced at the bar, he'd barely felt a sheath holding a shiv. Unnoticed to the eye, but his fingers had still found it. She was good – there was no denying that. Better than him, maybe. He hadn't seen her in action recently, so he didn't know for sure. But the way she carried herself and the coldness she reeked of had to be some indication.

***

            Once again, she knew he was watching her. She didn't know where he was, but she did know he was there. Close by. Somewhere. She felt him, smelled him. Just barely, but there all the same. His scent was unique – soap and sweat and man. The scent of Riddick. She smirked to herself, thinking back to the jasmine. Maybe some day they would have a spray that had been engineered from his DNA and a little creativity to smell just like him. Like the jasmine. She shook her head, kept walking. He would follow her, she knew. She didn't mind. Her senses were on high-alert. The slightest sound and she would turn, adjust her eyes slightly, whatever needed to be done without looking jumpy. Just a midnight stroll, no big deal. _Yeah, right. With Riddick close behind it is a big deal,_ she reminded herself. _On the toes at all times._

            Unbelievable. A knife to her throat, and this man smelled nothing of Riddick. He was short, fat, and disgusting. What the fuck was he thinking?

            "You're a pretty lady, and you're all mine, you know? Now anyway," he rasped to her, his breath nearly knocking her over.

            "You don't know who you're fucking with, little man," she spat. "Two seconds to change your mind."

***

            Now was the time to find out just how good she was. _She should know better than to walk around in the middle of the night looking that good, smelling that good,_ Riddick thought, leaning back on his haunches to watch. He would step in if need be, but he didn't think the need would come.

***

            "What're you gonna do?" the smelly man pressed. She'd had it with this stinky bastard. Timing was crucial, so she waited. "You gonna scream or something? No one's gonna come to your rescue," he continued. He took a breath to continue, but couldn't find air after her elbow made contact. He was quickly flipped over her shoulder in a martial-arts type move, and landed on the concrete with a thud. He groaned and tried to get away, but he'd fucked with her. No one fucks with her and lives to tell about it. _Except Riddick_, she thought. And that thought – the thought of him – just pissed her off even more. Boy, this stinky asshole was going to get it. Her shiv was drawn from her boot, quickly meeting his throat to make a deep gash. He swung uncontrollably, the nerves starting to spasm on their own. He was dead, but his brain hadn't caught on yet. His knife caught her arm, but didn't do much damage. Flesh wound, slight blood. She watched him until he stopped moving, even after the small, intermittent twitches well after death. _All in a day's work._

            She turned on her heel, deciding to head home before that damn cut got infected with whatever it was he could have had. The possibilities were endless, she figured. Better safe than sorry. He was leaning against her door when she entered the hallway.

            "Nice one," he said with a smirk. She rolled her eyes.

            "I figured you were watching."

            "Couldn't sleep?"

            "Not very long, and not very well," she admitted with a shrug. It came with the territory, and she figured he knew as well as she did. He followed her into the apartment, despite the warning in her eye. He stood in the doorway of the bathroom again, watching her tend her wound. He couldn't help but stare. She'd peeled off the black shirt and was standing there in front of him, clad only in jeans and a black lacy bra, plus that nifty little shiv in a sheath on her back. Blood dripped from her elbow, and she mopped it up gently. He noted the long scar down her back, breaking through that gorgeous dragon tattoo twisting its way from her shoulder blade and around her other side. _Slam, maybe?_ Butterfly bandages, gauze, and medical tape, and she would be fine. The peroxide had stung a little, but not enough to make her cringe. She looked up at him. He was mesmerized. "I'm done, are you?" she snickered. His eyes snapped up to hers, and she could have sworn he'd blushed before disappearing down the hallway. 

            She found him standing in front of her bedroom window, nursing what she'd left of his drink from earlier. She watched him for a few moments, taking every inch of him in. He'd not changed much from the last time she'd seen him. He was a little thicker, more muscle, but other than that, nothing was different.

            "Do you remember what it looked like before?" he asked, his voice gentle and quiet. 

            "Before what?" He turned to look at her, his eyes flashing as they passed over her. Yeah, the shine job. Her gaze lowered.

            "I don't remember what I look like, much less anything else." He nodded and turned back to the window.

            "Me neither." He smiled, though, and corrected himself. "I remember what you looked like before you got yours, but I never saw you before mine." She nodded. She remembered. "Do the contacts help at all, or is it just for other people?"

            "Makes the glare a little worse, but hides them rather well." He nodded. "They gave them to me when I got out. Technicality, you know, but exonerated all the same." Another nod. That's why he never got any. 

            "Color matched even?" he asked.

            "Close." He felt her move behind him. "What do you want from me, Riddick?" She was scared he would answer truthfully, but couldn't resist asking. He turned to look at her, taking his time to formulate a response that wouldn't piss her off. That probably wouldn't be such a good idea, given her recent kill. 

            "A second chance." She stared up at him, her head cocked slightly to the side, as though the question still hung from her lips. She broke the gaze first, turning to leave the room. He sighed and stood there for a moment. 

            She felt his eyes on her, boring through her it seemed. Her face flushed, and she knew he could tell that. Hopefully he would think it was the shot of Schnapps she'd just downed. It didn't matter.

            "There are more pressing issues right now, Riddick," she said, her voice cracking slightly, strained from the alcohol. He nodded, closing the gap between them. Her eyes avoided his, despite his efforts to lift her chin toward him. She was having none of it. "You broke a promise," she continued. His heart sank. "Taking a hit on me doesn't qualify as protection. Sooner or later, the greed would take over and you'd do it anyway." She paused and licked her lips. His thumb brushed over her cheek lightly, and her eyes closed. "I hate you, Riddick." Her eyes lifted to his with that admission, the third time she'd said it to him today. She'd lost count of the times she'd told herself that. His brow furrowed, but he held her eyes with his. Mercury danced, a mixture of heat and emotion. Hate in hers, longing in his. He'd had her and lost her. Lost her in the process of trying to keep her alive and safe. Her eyes shifted down to his lips and back up before she tilted up on her toes, pressing her lips to his. If this was hate, he wanted more.

            His arms snaked around her waist, expelling any remaining air between them. Their tongues fought for control, both pulses speeding up. One hand was twisted in his shirt, the other behind his head, not letting him get away from her. Her eyes slammed open as his hands closed on the snap of the sheath still holding her favorite shiv – the one she'd stolen from him in Slam. It fell to the floor with a clatter. Panic over took her, and she twisted out of his grasp. He glanced down at it, then back at her.

            "Not now," he whispered. She stared back up at him, trembling slightly as he reached for her again, her skin burning where his made contact. Their lips were at war again, kissing, biting, whatever struck them at the moment. Her fingers found the hem of his shirt, her lips breaking from his only long enough to wrench it from his body, taking his again as it fell to the floor. He'd had countless women before, but the one in his arms right now was the only one he'd ever let take control like this. His hands slid down her back and over her butt, each hand palming a cheek and lifting. Her legs went around his waist, her lips still attacking his as he carried her to her bedroom. She hadn't noticed that his fingers had already gone to work on the closure of her bra, but it was off before her back made contact with the mattress, his lips leaving a trail of heat as he moved down her body.

            He stopped suddenly, glancing back up at her quickly. She smiled, knowing what he was thinking. His eyes glittered as his fingers closed on the metal rod and turned it slightly, watching her back arch up toward him. A change he'd not considered. Nipple piercings. _Wow. I've seen the hottest of hot_. He smirked, leaning over to run his tongue over it lazily. Her moan served only to spur him on. His fingers made fast work of the buttons closing her jeans, sliding them down her legs, more skin exposed to his lips. He sighed and concentrated on the ankle holster, setting it on the floor, gun in place. 

            She was tired of being controlled. It was her turn now. Her legs snapped around his waist and flipped him onto his back. He seemed a little surprised, but let it slide. She was, after all, in complete control of him. The throbbing was because of her, the clouded thoughts were because of her, his surrender was because of her. Hell, his presence was because of her. Her hands pinned his to the mattress on either side of his head. She was surprised he didn't fight it, but didn't slow down. She did, however, notice that there was a spot of heat on him for a fraction of a second after she lifted her lips from his skin, and it fascinated her. Yet another shine-job plus. Her tongue swirled around each of his nipples, and she smiled at the growl he granted her. She lived for vocalizations. He was too distracted by her tongue-assault to notice her fingers making quick work of his pants, and they were on the floor in a heap before he felt the tingling of the cool air on his skin. She radiated against him, fighting off the shivers for him. She closed her teeth on the side of his neck, biting and sucking _hard_, leaving a mark for the world to know he was hers, and hers alone. He groaned again, his hand tangling in her hair to bring her face back up to his. The ferocity of his kiss evoked a moan deep in her chest, and her lips were now pleasantly bruised.

            Her head spun as he flipped her again, pinning her underneath him. His turn again. Capillaries broke on the side of her neck, her mark returned to her. They belonged to each other now. As if there had been any questions before. His thumbs hooked in the sides of her black silk panties, sliding them slowly down her legs, his lips once again leaving a trail to her ankles. He worked his way back up her body, spending a little more time on those two pierced little nubs, reveling in her writhing underneath him. She cried out as he pushed his hips forward slowly, her back arching more than it should be able to. He filled her completely, now absolutely still. She was made for him, and he for her. They fit perfectly together. Still. His hand slid underneath her, up her back, coming to rest on the back of her neck. He lifted her head slightly.

            "Look at me, Cassidy," he whispered. She did, tears shining in her eyes. Their noses touched as he started moving, and her eyes fluttered closed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He stopped again. "No, look at me," he demanded gently. She did, and a tear broke free. Her eyes never left his face as he bent down to stop it with a kiss. His eyes met hers again, his movements returning. She fought to keep her eyes open, focusing on the dancing of light in his eyes, knowing that pink glow was her. She let her hand travel up his back and around his neck, her thumb stroking his cheek. Her face twisted as the heat rose up from within her, but she still fought to keep her eyes open. Little moans escaped both of them as they exhaled, their breaths leaving goose bumps on each other's skin as it traveled over their glistening bodies. A trickle of sweat traveled down the side of his face, and she wiped it away with a trembling thumb. As long as she was staring into his eyes, she couldn't get there, just hovering on the edge. _God damn, he's good_. She whimpered, trying desperately to fall over that edge. His groans got louder, his brow furrowing. With one long thrust, his lips met hers, and her eyes slammed shut as she fell, his moan vibrating through her entire body as she convulsed under him, around him. He moved until he couldn't any more, and slumped against her, his hot breath fanning out across her skin, making her tingle. He bit her lip, and she moaned, another contraction around him making him echo her. She took his breath away, and he couldn't seem to catch up.

            Her eyes met his, tears still falling slowly down her cheeks. His fingers ran through little sections of her hair around her face, staring down into those mercury eyes. Neither said a thing, just stared. Her fingers pressed into the back of his head, drawing him back down to her for another kiss. The tenderness in that kiss surprised her, and her other hand tightened on his side, her hips grinding upwards against his to evoke another growl. But his kiss didn't change – still gentle. He rested his head on her shoulder, his nose grazing her neck. His eyes closed slowly as her fingers traced imaginary patterns lightly down his back. He didn't dare say what he was thinking. It couldn't be possible for him, a cold-blooded killer. He chalked it up to post-orgasmic haze and sighed lazily, listening to her heart beat return to normal.

            "I missed you," she whispered. He looked up at her, watching her lip tremble. A slight smile, but genuine all the same. Another tender kiss. Her hands went to his cheeks, caressing them lightly. If he never lived another day, he was satisfied with this one, as badly as it had started out. "But this isn't you," she finished after a long pause. His eyes searched hers. "You've never been…" she paused, thinking, "like this." He shook his head a little. "Gentle." No reaction. "You never made me cry like that before." His eyebrow twitched downward a fraction. "This is the Riddick I'm scared of." Her voice cracked. He waited for explanation. "This is the Riddick I could fall for." His lips met hers again, possessive. Her lips quivered even as she responded to his, fighting against his. She let out a sound that he knew had the same origin as her tears. The sound a child makes when it's trying to be quiet while crying. He pulled away, panting.

            "This is the Riddick you turned me into," he said between gasps. She shook her head, letting the tears break free again. He stroked her face and held her gaze. "And there's no way in hell I'm going to leave you again." Bigger tears. "I'm going to keep you alive." She nodded. He paused and smirked. "Please tell me you're reconsidering your decision to follow through on the hit." She laughed, her muscles clenching around him, evoking another moan. He dropped his head to her chest, planting a kiss where it happened to fall. "Tell me you don't hate me, even if it's a lie." He was begging. The great Richard B. Riddick was begging. She couldn't believe it.

            "I never have." Damn that lip for quivering. She almost lost it – almost broke down into complete and utter sobbing. "I had to hate you to keep from hating myself." He shook his head against her.

            "I'm sorry." His whisper made her shiver. This definitely wasn't the same man she'd met in Slam.__


	3. Chapter 3

Broken Promises

Chapter 3

            Cassidy woke with a start, feeling someone move in the bed next to her. She turned slightly, her eyes falling on him. She sighed and slid from the bed, landing silently on the floor. He stirred, but didn't wake, and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her feet padded silently down the hallway, and she twisted the knob on the shower, stepping under the hot stream. The water ran down her body, taking the aches away with it. After wrapping a towel around herself, she reached out and cleared the steam from the mirror. She looked tired. A movement behind her made her whirl around, facing him.

            "My turn?" he asked groggily. She shrugged, watching him follow her tracks into the shower. _Why not?_ He turned slightly as he felt a hand slide up his back around his shoulders, a sleepy but pleased grunt echoing off the tiles. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder blade. Neither moved for a while. "Everything okay?" he asked, finally breaking the silence. She shook her head against him, and he tried to turn to face her, but she wouldn't move. 

            "I don't know who you are," she said quietly. This time she let him turn, feeling his fingers slide through her tangled wet hair and lift her face toward his. He looked down into her eyes.

            "Yes you do," he replied, leaning down to cover her lips with his. She sighed and rested her head against his chest as his fingers curled around the tips of her hair. Her hands pressed flat against his back, pulling him closer to her. He kissed the top of her head and yawned. She nodded and pulled out of his embrace, leaving him to shower on his own. 

            He found her later sitting on the couch, staring at one of the pictures of him that had fallen from the manila envelope. She was dressed, her hair pulled back in a loop behind her head. He tucked in the end of the towel around his waist and sat next to her, taking the picture from her fingers. 

            "You looked different then," she said quietly. He nodded.

            "Pre-shine job." She shook her head, and his eyebrow quirked.

            "I don't know what's different, but something is." He took a breath and paused, licking his lips.

            "That was a month or so before they took me to Slam City." She nodded. Obviously it was before Slam. Duh. "I'd been in Slam for three months before you showed up." She blinked, but didn't look up at him, instead reaching for the other picture of him on the coffee table. Her fingers ran over his cheek in the picture absently. "You walked through that door and for once in my life, I didn't know what to say." She smiled slightly, but it fell quickly. She knew the story, but knew he would tell it anyway. His eyes twinkled at the memories, and he laughed a little. "Every single guy down there wanted you. It'd been years since most of them had even seen a woman, much less been in close proximity. But every one of us knew that you were down there with us for a reason, and were scared shitless." She smiled again, and this time it lingered for a moment.

            "You're the only person that's ever beaten me in chess," she said quietly, hoping to hurry the story along. He smirked. It slowly morphed into a pained expression.

            "You're the only person I've ever trusted." Her eyes met his. "Completely," he finished, searching her. No expression, no indication of what she was thinking. 

            "You shouldn't," she admitted after a beat, her voice low. 

            "I know," he returned. "But I do." She shook her head, standing and going to the window. He followed, shifting the towel slightly. His arms went around her, under her arms crossed over her chest. He buried his face in the side of her neck, admiring the mark he'd left her with the night previously. He planted a soft kiss on it, as though he were trying to heal it for her, then leaned closer to her ear. "And so help me God, if you're the person who ends up killing me, that's the way I'd rather it be." A pause for emphasis. "And that's why I trust you so much." She nodded.

            "Trust isn't a part of my vocabulary any more," she said flatly. Point Cassidy. He gave up, leaving her standing in the window, her back suddenly cold. She wrapped her arms more tightly around herself and turned, but he'd already left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Broken Promises

Chapter 4

            He watched her silently. They'd worked out a plan, and now all they had to do was go about putting it into motion. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, and he watched, fascinated, as she plaited it into a long braid down her back and fastened it.

            "Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly, unable to mask the concern in his voice. Her eyes met his in the mirror, surprise flickering over her features for a short moment before she nodded slightly.

            "It's the best we could come up with," she returned. He nodded slightly, but wasn't eased at all. He didn't want to put her at risk like this. No telling what was going to happen, no matter how many different scenarios they planned for. He had to admit it – he was nervous. 

            In all honesty, it was a really good plan. Cassidy was going to meet the contact and up the price, after calling to say eleven thousand wasn't enough for such a tough hit. Riddick would be hiding in the shadows somewhere, just in case, and it would all go smoothly. The contact would be killed, and nothing would go wrong in the process. It would be perfect. _Right?_ He sighed, and she turned slowly, watching his hand reach out and envelop hers. Their eyes met and held for a few moments, before he shook his head and tugged at her, pulling her against him. He planted a kiss on her forehead.

            "Don't do anything stupid," he whispered. She smirked.

            "Ditto." He smiled down at her. She shook her head. "You're nervous, aren't you?" He shook his head and snickerd.

            "C'mon. Me? Nervous?" Her eyebrow rose, and he shrunk a little, clearing his throat. "Okay, maybe just a little, but I don't want anything to happen to you."

            "Everything's gonna be fine," she promised. He nodded. She leaned up into him, kissing him lightly and quickly before sliding past him into her bedroom. He heard the closet door beep and then her pull it open, and he went to check out her stash. Several guns, a good collection of shivs, but not quite what he'd expected. For some reason, he'd expected an arsenal big enough to arm a small militia. She had enough to do the job, with enough accessories for every scenario possible, and nothing more. They loaded up as much as they felt prudent, and finished the final plans. They left together, and he fell behind and disappeared a few blocks before the meeting place. She'd be a bit early, but that would give him time to find a good spot to make sure everything went as planned.

            Cassidy looked around the abandoned warehouse. She'd known it'd be the perfect place for this. She just hoped she had the guts to follow through with what needed to be done. She knew Riddick was in the shadows somewhere nearby, but not exactly where he was. It would be safer that way. She couldn't glance in his direction if something unexpected happened and blow his cover. She heard footsteps and took a deep, calming breath. No turning back now.

            Riddick hid in the shadows, still able to see the expression on Cassidy's face. When the sound of footsteps entered the warehouse, a flash of fear, and then nothing but cold-blooded killer. He couldn't help but smile. His little protégé. And a damn hot one, at that. A shadowed form, and Riddick's brow furled. The conversation began, taking the course they'd planned out. 

            "I didn't expect a woman." Riddick's stomach lurched. _Neither did I._ Cassidy had been the only female he'd met in Slam. He'd assumed that whoever the contact that hired them to kill each other had been from Slam, since that's the place they had acquaintances in common.

            "Neither did I," came Cassidy's response. The woman standing there seemed oddly familiar to Riddick, but he couldn't place her and couldn't see her face. A nagging feeling in the back of his mind, but nothing more. Nothing telling. And it was bothering him.

            "I was actually quite surprised you wished to meet," the contact continued. "The plan was for payment after completion."

            "Eleven's not enough," Cassidy said firmly. The woman's eyebrow rose.

            "That was the agreement."

            "That was the offer," Cassidy corrected. She was bold. No denying that. "It's not enough."

            "May I ask why?" the contact pressed. Cassidy feigned exasperation, running a hand through her hair. She was really beginning to tire of this twit.

            "I'm sure you're aware of Riddick's history. He'll be a hard man to track down, for one, and a hard one to outsmart." The contact nodded.

            "I'm sure you can manage," she stated. Cassidy fought to keep from killing the twit right then. _Stick to the plan_.

            "Not for eleven. It'll cost more than that to track him down and make contact," Cassidy lied. The contact shook her head, a sly smile spreading across her lips.

            "What do you suggest then?" Cassidy paused, her eyebrow arching slightly. 

            "Twenty-five." Riddick cringed. Too high.

            "Twenty," the contact returned. Cassidy shook her head.

            "He was too good in bed for that," she spat, her eyes narrowing. This chick was not going to take advantage of her talent. The contact took a step back.

            "My research led me to believe you'd lost contact before he broke out of Slam," she said quickly. "I wasn't aware you'd had a relationship with him. Is that why you want more? You need more motivation to follow through?"

            "I have enough motivation as it is. I hate him, plain and simple. But twenty's not enough. You're wasting my time." Cassidy turned to leave.

            "Fine." She paused without turning back around. "Twenty-five it is." Cassidy smiled and turned to shake hands with the contact, but found herself staring at the barrel of a gun. She'd turned her back, and now she was paying for it. Where the fuck was Riddick?

            "You're going to kill me before I get the job done?" Cassidy asked quickly.

            "Don't cross me, Cassidy Hodge," the contact seethed. "Twenty five it is, but don't you fucking cross me."

            "You do know about the down payment, right?" Cassidy asked, hoping her eyes played honest.

            "You can make an exception," the contact spat, pulling back the hammer of the gun. Cassidy nodded.

***

            "She'll just go somewhere else, Riddick. Once is enough." Cassidy's voice was agitated. She'd been stressed to the max today, and she wasn't putting up with any shit from him.

            "No one else is going to take them, Cass," he pressed. Her eyes met his.

            "I know people that would." He paused. "Trust me."

            "Why didn't you just do it then?" Cassidy shrugged.

            "Something didn't seem right, Riddick. There's something really weird about this whole thing, and I don't like it," she admitted, a shiver running over her. He reached out to smooth her hair behind her ear and plant a kiss on her cheek, watching her eyes flutter closed for a second. 

            "I know, baby," he admitted. "But we're both in too deep to back out now." She nodded. He was right and she knew it. He pulled her against his chest and she listened to his breathing, even and steady. She took a breath and paused, thinking before she asked.

            "Where were you?"

            "What?" he asked quietly.

            "When she pulled a gun on me." She pulled out of his grasp. "Where the fuck were you?"

            "You can handle yourself, Cass. You've already proven that. I was ready to step in, but there was no sense blowing the whole thing just because she pulled a fucking gun on you. It turned out fine." She sighed.

            "I'm gonna take a shower." She stood and paused. "Go home." His eyes met hers, questioning her. She shook her head. "You can't stay here anymore."

            "Just tonight," he whispered. She wavered, and with his simple "please," gave in with a heavy sigh. He closed the gap between them and ran his fingers through her hair. Her hands pressed against his chest, fighting him feebly, but she was too tired to invest too much energy in rejection. She wasn't sure she wanted to reject him again anyway. Too confused, too confused.

            The sensation of his teeth closing on her earlobe pulled her back into coherency, and she drew in a sharp breath, hissing quietly before smashing her lips into his. His hands settled on her hips and lifted, slamming her against the wall and pinning her there, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Her fingers ran over his stubbly head, and she smirked, wrenching her lips away from his to bite at his neck and whisper "you need to shave." He chuckled and tore her shirt from her head, their clothing flying all over the apartment, leaving a trail to the bedroom.

            He flung her onto the bed, sliding onto the comforter next to her, his fingers following the curve from her waist to below her hip. He took his time just taking her in, every freckle and scar. She shifted next to him, uncomfortable now under the scrutiny of his stare. He sensed that, and pulled her to him, planting kisses everywhere reachable. His eyes met hers, and he held them for a moment.

            "You're beautiful," he whispered. She just stared back at him for a moment.

            "I don't feel like it," she admitted quietly, watching his brow furl. His hand slid absentmindedly up her thigh and over her hip, resting on the small of her back. He shook his head.

            "But you are," he insisted.

            "But I don't feel like it." He sighed. She thought he was giving in, but before she knew what was happening, he had her on her back, her arms pinned above her head. His lips planted a slow, torturous trail of kisses down her body and back up. When he returned to her lips, she was trembling in anticipation, and his fingers played over her cheek in an affectionate display.

            "Every inch of you," he whispered, "is beautiful." He punctuated the second half of the statement with his entry, feeling her arch against him.

            "Are you going to make me keep my eyes open this time?" she whined. He smirked.

            "I didn't _make_ you last time," he retorted. Her eyebrow rose, and he twitched inside her. Her hips ground up against his, pleading with him to move, but he didn't give in. He was perfectly content where he was – for now.

            "Quit fucking with me, Riddick," she demanded. "If you're gonna do this, you better start soon or I'll—"

            "You'll what?" He grinned down at her. "You can't go anywhere." She huffed, grinding against him again, trying everything she could to get him going, but he was having none of it. He was just enjoying her begging him like this.

            "I swear to fucking God, Riddick..." She trailed off with a grunt as he punctuated his dominance with a single, hard thrust and was still again. She gave in, her eyes meeting and holding his. "Please," she whispered. "Make me feel like you mean it." He shook his head slightly.

            "Like I mean what?" Her lip quivered slightly, and she lifted her head so she could take his lips. He responded to her, letting her arms go. They fell around his shoulders while she kissed him. He broke the kiss, still waiting for an answer. She swallowed.

            "That you love me." He blinked a few times, frantically trying to think of when he'd told her that. She instantly regretted that, watching him search her eyes for explanation, waiting for more from her. She couldn't give it. It was just a feeling she had, a hunch that told her he loved her. She let her eyes close, waiting for the empty feeling she always got when he wasn't there with her. He let his body collapse against hers, his head falling to the pillow under hers.

            "I don't know how," he admitted.

            "How to what?" she asked. The room was too quiet.

            "Make you feel that way." She shook her head, the tears threatening to break. "You just have to trust me on that," he finished. Her eyes met his, and he looked as scared as she felt. He shook his head. "You're amazing, Cassidy." If she said anything, she knew she'd cry, so she just lay there, feeling him throb, watching him sort through this. "Show me how to love you so I don't lose you again," he begged.

            "You already know how," she said quietly, her voice shaking. He shook his head, burying his face in her neck. Her hand went to his cheek, and she pulled his face away from her so she could look at him. His eyes searched hers for reproach, and found nothing but the emotion returned. She pulled his lips to hers, whimpering against his lips as he moved against her. He was slow and deliberate, wanting this moment to last forever, never wanting it to end. Her hips met his halfway, her hands sliding up and down his back, her moans urging him forward. He'd never gotten so close so fast, but he had to slow down to make sure she got there as well. "Don't stop," she whispered, her voice urgent in his ear. Her lips found his, her hips setting the pace. He wasn't sure he could last long that fast, but she was there the same time he was, their moans intertwining, breaking the silence. He felt numb all over, tingly. She couldn't keep her eyes open. They fell asleep in each others' arms, still clinging to each other, still joined. __


	5. Chapter 5

Broken Promises

Chapter 5

            Cassidy woke slowly, groggily. She let a groan vibrate through her and rolled over onto her back, her arm flopping out toward the side of the bed. Rather than a warm body sleeping next to her, her arm found a cold, wrinkled sheet. She sat up quickly, alarmed. Pulling the sheet off the bed with her, she searched the apartment, flopping onto the couch with an exasperated "fuck" after discovering she was alone. It was still night – no telling where he could be. She shook her head, standing and heading back to the bedroom with an aggravated sigh. 

            She was merely catnapping when she heard the door creak, waking fully before she noted his shadow moving toward her down the hallway. But something didn't seem right. Something was off. She just lay there, silently, eyes open just enough to see without blowing her cover.

            "Cass?" Just a whisper. Something was definitely wrong. "Cassidy, get your ass outta bed," he demanded more firmly, but still next to silent.  He reached out and clamped a hand over her mouth, watching her eyes go wide as he pulled her off the bed, holding her close to his chest as he hurried out the front door. Luckily for her, she'd pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a wife beater after discovering he'd left her in the middle of the night. He paused just outside the door, glancing from side to side, finally deciding on the back stairs. Down to the second floor, then more waiting. He backed her into a dark corner, his body hiding hers. Her eyes stared up at him, questioning him, but he just shook his head. Silence now, explanation later. Something gave, and he was on the move again, his fingers intertwined with hers tightly, pulling her behind him. Into what was left of the woods, out of the woods, and she stopped dead in her tracks as a small skiff came into view. 

            "What the fuck are you doing?" she demanded, wrenching her hand from his.

            "The shit hit the fan, Cass. Mercs, cops, you name it. Someone spilled it, and I'm willing to bet it was our little _contact_." The final word mimicked the way one would say _manure._ She stuttered, unable to come up with something to say. Finally.

            "I'm not leaving, Riddick," she insisted stubbornly. He closed the gap between them, his eyes darting over her shoulder. She glanced as well, seeing hand lights dancing maybe 500 metres away. Her eyes turned back to his, cold and hard. He swore.

            "God _damn_ it, Cassidy. You felt betrayed all this time because you didn't think I protected you or cared about you." She'd never seen him so anxious, hurried, frantic. "Will you listen to me now?" She looked over her shoulder again, torn between freedom and safety. "Give me a fuckin' chance here, Cass. Let me protect you for once, okay? Just _let_ me instead of assuming I won't because I didn't in the past." He swore under his breath. "Please, Cassidy." Her lip trembled slightly. She still didn't want to leave. "I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you again." 

            "Do you love me, Riddick?"

            "Do we have to do this right now, Cass?" He looked over her shoulder. Dancing hand lights drew nearer.

            "Answer the fucking question," she demanded, more firmly than she anticipated.

            "Yes," he said quickly, his eyes meeting hers.

            "I want you to say it," she pressed.

            "God _damn_."

            "Say it!" she yelled. Dogs barked in the distance. Too close, too close.

            "I love you, Cassidy. Now can we go?" She followed him toward the skiff, watching out the back until the hatch was closed, then taking a seat and strapping in.

            "I don't believe you," she whispered, her lip trembling.

            "Can we talk about it later? Let me concentrate," he insisted. Her brow furrowed, but she gave in. A restless sleep found her quickly, her body tired, drained. Torn between instinct and raw emotion, and for some unknown reason, she'd chosen emotion. A silent tear slipped down her cheek, not unnoticed by the looming figure in the pilot's seat a few feet away.

            She woke later to a finger running down the side of her face. Keeping her eyes closed, she tried to figure out where she was. On a ship definitely, or something of that sort anyway. Artificial gravity was a unique feeling, one rarely forgotten. She was lying down though, not in the chair she remembered falling asleep in, and that confused her. Usually if anyone even thought about moving her, she'd wake. Her eyes opened slowly, taking in the pained expression on the man lying next to her.

            "Where are we going?" she asked quietly. He shrugged. Her eyes closed, the lids still sleep-laden and heavy. His fingers continued caressing her face slowly, softly, something she wasn't used to experiencing.

            "I'm sorry you don't believe me," Riddick said quietly. Her eyebrow twitched, her memory betraying her. Ah, yes. That heated moment before boarding this god-forsaken skiff. She shook her head and rolled over onto her other side, her back facing him.

            "Trust has to be earned, Riddick," she retorted. "Stealing me in the middle of the night without telling me what's up and then screaming an 'I love you' at me just to get me on this damn ship isn't convincing me at all."

            "Would you have come with me if I hadn't?"

            "No."

            "I rest my case."

            "That's not the point," she insisted, agitated by the slight smirk of pride in his voice. "Using emotions like that to get me to do what you want isn't the way to earn trust points."

            "Think about it this way," he said, reaching out to smooth her wild hair over the small pillow. "I wanted you on this damn ship because I love you and I couldn't bear the thought of leaving you behind, no matter how self-sufficient you might be. I told you before, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you again."

            "You'd deal," she spat. He shook his head.

            "You know," he said, standing. "I've told you I don't know how to make you feel like I mean it when I say I love you. I told you you'd have to trust me on that, or _show_ me how to make you see I mean it. I mean, fuck, Cassidy. In the heat of the moment when you see mercs and officials running toward the building you're staying in, we'll see how loyal _you_ are. We'll see if you'd come running back to me and risk getting _both_ of us caught in the process of trying to get me out alive." Her shoulders shook. "If anything, _I'm_ the one that's proven myself." She felt him leave her there, unsure of where she went. She swore. Cursed him. Damn it, he was right. Even worse, he knew it. Fuck.


	6. Chapter 6

Broken Promises

Chapter 6

            Cassidy drifted in and out of sleep slowly, sleep and wake barely distinguishable. She was the master of catnapping. It was no surprise, then, that she jolted upright as the skiff made its decent, the turbulence from the approaching planet's gravity kicking in. She swore and stood, walking on shaking legs on a shaking ship toward the closest chair with a securing mechanism. And naturally there were only two such chairs - the pilot's seat and the co-pilot's seat. She swore again, plopping in the chair next to Riddick and strapping in, the harshness of her movements making it abundantly clear that she was still not a happy camper. He sighed inwardly. _Women. Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional. As always. In a huff because she couldn't win._ He shook his head slightly, watching her eyes shift over to him.

            "Turbulence is something else," he lied, hoping to cover his thoughts.

            "You can manage," she retorted, her voice strained and cold. He grimaced. "Where are we?"

            "New Mecca," Riddick grunted. Her eyebrow rose. "Friend of mine can help us out." An even more confused expression. "I saved his ass a while back, he owes me." His stomach sunk as he realized that Jack was probably still with Imam. _Nosy little kid,_ he thought with a touch of sentiment. _Probably still taken with me. It'll be a damn hard thing to explain Cass to her. Poor kid._ He shook his head, pretending to concentrate on the final decent.

            "Private landing strip?" Riddick nodded the answer to her question. No big surprise. New Mecca was a safe haven. The destination of Muslim pilgrims. _How the fuck does Riddick know a religious man?_ She wondered, taking in the sights of this portion of planet as they neared the ground. 

            The skiff was set down without a hitch, a flawless landing. If Cassidy hadn't known better, she would have sworn his wheels never touched the ground, the landing was that smooth.

            She followed him out of the skiff and down a narrow dirt road leading up to a temple about a mile away. She was tired and sore, but didn't complain about walking. It would help loosen her up a little, perhaps. Not a word was spoken between them, until Riddick stopped in front of a small flat and motioned with his head that this was their destination. Her eyebrow rose, but she followed him up the walkway. 

            The man opened the door, his eyes widening before he gestured for them to enter. He led them down the hallway and into a sitting room. _Holy man, _Cassidy thought to herself, taking in the low seats constructed for meditation, and the small row of prayer blankets arranged for visitors on the floor, in a row before the long sliding glass doors leading to a lush garden in the backyard. Her eyes flitted around the room.

            "Explore, my child," the holy man granted her. "There is enough house here to occupy your thoughts. The garden is a place of great healing. You're hurting. Go, child. Let the gardens consume you." Her eyebrow rose, but she granted his request and disappeared among the flowers, herbs, and shrubs, every now and again reaching out to caress a petal or leaf with a loving finger. "She's a beautiful woman." Riddick nodded.

            "Difficult," was his gruff reply.

            "All loved ones are difficult at times." Riddick grunted. He wasn't going to admit to Imam how he felt about Cassidy. No way would he let that get back to Jack. 

            "Where's Jack?" Riddick asked, the thought inspiring a topic for superficial conversation.

            "She's started her own life," Imam said a little sadly. "She calls every now and then. But her calls are less and less frequent." He paused, looking Riddick over quickly. "She never accepted that you had to leave her," he said quickly.

            "I gathered as much."

            "Perhaps you should visit her," Imam suggested. Riddick snickered.

            "Nah. It'll just reinforce any misconceptions she had about me. She needs to figure out that I'm not a knight in shining armor. She can do better than me."

            "And if she doesn't want to?"

            "It's not an option, Holy Man," Riddick sighed. "You know as well as I do she can get into enough trouble on her own. I don't want to fuck up her life like I have mine."

            "Emotions are stronger than reason."

            "Only if you let them be," was Riddick's coarse reply. His eyes wandered back to Cassidy. "In her case," he let himself trail off.

            "She's your age, I'm guessing," Imam said. "More suitable for you than Jack, I suppose?" Riddick nodded.

            "A female version of me." Imam's eyebrow rose.

            "You need someone to counteract you." Riddick nodded at this suggestion. He knew. 

            "Somehow she turned out just like me, but completely the opposite." Imam laughed.

            "Women can seem that way." Riddick smiled slightly. The holy man had a point. Imam paused slightly, Riddick knowing the question was almost posed. "Do you love this woman, Mr. Riddick?" Riddick swallowed.

            "I used to," he admitted.

            "And now?"

            "I want to, but I don't think she'll let me." He sighed and shook his head. "No, that's not it." Imam waited patiently for an explanation. "I don't know how to. I fucked it up so bad in the past I'm not sure I can fix it."

            "A broken ship and a broken bone call all be repaired, Mr. Riddick. It only takes time and work."

            "But ships and bones aren't anything like women," Riddick said with a smirk.

            "But only time and work will fix a broken relationship."

***

            Riddick stared up at the ceiling. Sleep didn't come easily for him anyway, and the constant thinking about what he could possibly do to make the situation - with Cassidy and the hits - better at all weren't helping him. He sighed and stood, stretching lazily with a huge yawn, trying to make it a silent one so he wouldn't wake the slumbering holy man and Cassidy. He shook his head, hoping to loosen the cobwebs starting to form up there. Life was starting to catch up to him, and he wasn't comfortable with that.

            He wandered around the house for a while, stopping for some time in front of a small collection of pictures. Most of them were of Jack, in several stages of growth. The most recent one captured Riddick's attention. Her hair had grown, and her features had matured. She'd turned into a pretty girl. Girl in comparison to Cassidy anyway. By now, Jack had to be around twenty, a legal adult, but to Riddick, she'd always be the nosy little "Kid" he'd risked his life for - and almost lost - back on that God forsaken planet. A twinge of regret and pain, and then curiosity. He shrugged to himself and then wandered through the gardens for a while. 

            In the cool air, the scent of peppermint soothed his nerves a little, and he found himself starting to relax again. There would always be the little voice in the back of his head keeping him on high alert - he'd been programmed that way for so long it was hard to control, and he knew he was safer that way. He reached out to touch a jasmine plant and smiled slightly, thinking back to Cassidy's apartment. Leaning over, he confirmed the scent. _Mental note_. 

            On the way back to the room Imam had given him, he stopped in front of the pictures again. The ones of Imam's three sons were all framed in black, matted behind white paper, printed in black and white film. To honor them in death, he supposed. But the ones of Jack were full of color, the frames a dull silver. She was still very much alive, in the pictures and in life. A proud smile touched Riddick's features.

            "Who is she?" Riddick nearly had to peel himself off the ceiling. Cassidy smiled as he jumped, not realizing she'd taken him by surprise. He sighed in a vain attempt to catch his breath.

            "Imam's daughter," Riddick said quietly. Cassidy's eyebrow rose. "He took her in after." he trailed off. Cassidy didn't know about the crash. He took a breath and paused, glancing up at her and then back down to the pictures. "Do you remember the Hunter-Gratzner?" She nodded and reached out, picking up a photo.

            "That merchant vessel that crashed on T2." He nodded. "I remember. What about it?"

            "There were three survivors." Her brow furrowed.

            "The news said no one survived." He smirked.

            "It was me, Imam, and Jack," Riddick informed. She shook her head. He nodded to the picture in her hands. "That's Jack." Her lips formed a silent "oh," and she nodded slightly. 

            "Evidently she didn't like the way things ended." Riddick's eyes met hers again, his face registering confusion. She smirked, as though she knew something he didn't. "Who are the boys?" 

            "What do you mean?"

            "The boys in the pictures. Black and white?" Cassidy knew he was asking about the comment about how things ended, but she didn't want to let him in on it yet.

            "No, what you said earlier." She looked up at him innocently, depositing the photo of the girl into his hands. "How did you know she didn't like the way things ended?"

            "Just the look in her eyes. She looks empty, like she's missing something." Riddick raised his eyebrows. "I'm guessing you were her hero. You said you saved Imam's ass and he owed you a favor, right?" Riddick nodded slowly. "If it was the three of you, you saved her too." Her eyes grew dark. "You know how girls feel about the men that save them, don't you?" He sighed. This again.

            "Cassidy -"

            "Forget it." She turned and left the hallway, stopping only for a second to turn and say simply, "She's our contact," before walking away. 

            It took him a while to figure that out, just standing there in the hallway, processing that last comment. _Contact, contact, WHAT contact?_ He searched his memory of the past few days. _The mercs, the ship, the hit._ His eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

            "Son of a bitch." _The hit. The fucking hit. Damn it to hell, where the fuck did Jack get the kind of money to take out a hit on me _and_ Cassidy? Fuck. What the hell is she up to?_ He hadn't gotten a close look at the woman who dared to pull a gun on Cassidy. No doubt Cassidy wanted revenge for that. And now that she knew just who the contact was to Riddick, his little Jack, there was no telling what she would do. _Then again, if Jack has the balls to take out a hit on me, there's no telling what she has planned for Cassidy, either._ "Fuck."

            "Mr. Riddick?" Riddick turned quickly, sliding down the wall to the floor, the picture of Jack between his fingers. "Is everything all right?" Riddick shook his head, the ridiculousness of the situation forcing the laughter from his chest. 

            "We came here because someone ordered a hit on both of us, Imam," Riddick admitted. "I took the hit on Cassidy and she took the hit on me." Imam shook his head, watching Riddick run his fingers over the photo of Jack, not making the connection.

            "What does that have to do with Jack?" Imam asked. Riddick looked up at him, his jaw set, the muscles clenching and rippling. "Allah," Imam breathed as the realization hit him.

            "Any idea where she got thirty-five thousand credits?" Imam took a step backward.

            "That's a lot of money," he replied.

            "Twenty-five for me, ten for Cassidy. Any idea?" Imam just shook his head. "Any idea why she would set us up like this?" Another shake of the head. "Well, any idea how she found out about Cassidy in the first place?"

            "Prison records are public, Mr. Riddick. I suppose she could have gotten that information from a database somewhere. She's become quite adept with computers."

            "Well," Riddick sighed, "she's getting pretty desperate to do something if she's willing to sic mercs on me." Imam's eyes shot up to meet Riddick's. "That's why we came here. Had to get off the planet. They knew we were there."

            "Are you sure it was Jack?"

            "Positive," came the reply from the doorway. They both turned to see Cassidy leaning against the doorframe. "I'd remember that face anywhere."

            "Why do you say that?" Imam asked.

            "Because it's the face that had a gun pointed in my face," she retorted. Riddick held up a hand, silencing her.

            "Imam, do you know how to get a hold of her?" He nodded slowly. "Vid-phone?" Another slight nod. "Think you can get her to come home?"

            "What do you have planned, Mr. Riddick?" Imam asked suspiciously.

            "Just want to talk some sense into her. Figure you're the only one she'll listen to at this point." 

            They both could see the despair in Imam's eyes, torn between protecting his protector and his adopted daughter. He knew Jack wasn't thinking clearly if she'd taken out a hit on her hero, especially one that took so much planning and was so complicated. He sighed.

            "Only if you give me your word that you won't harm her in any way."

            "The fuck we -" Riddick sent Cassidy a glare that turned her blood cold.

            "I could never hurt Jack. You know that, Imam." Cassidy's eyes narrowed.

            "And you," Imam said, turning to look Cassidy in the eye. "You must also give me your word." Her eyebrow rose.

            "I don't make promises."

            "Cassidy," Riddick growled, turning to face her. His nostrils flared, his eyes dark and angry. She didn't shrink at his intimidation tactic - she knew him too well.

            "She hired me to kill you and you to kill me. What's left to protect, Riddick? Huh? Some little hallucination you have of her looking up to you? Obviously that's been torn down now, since she WANTS YOU DEAD!" she yelled, her own anger surfacing. Imam backed up a few steps, unsure of how far this would go. "You don't give a shit about her, Riddick, do you? I mean, honestly. Do you give a shit about anyone but yourself any more?" Riddick let out an animalistic growl as he lunged at her, shoving her against the wall with a thud, the breath forced from her lungs with a strangled "Huhgnh." She cringed. _Maybe I pushed this too far._

            "She's like a kid sister to me," he stated, his voice low and dangerous. "I risked my life for her several times, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Imam and I are all she's got."

            "How long has it been since you last talked to her, Riddick?" His eyes narrowed. "When was the last time you saw her, or thought about her?"

            "I think about her every day."

            "And me?" Her eyes never wavered from his. "You feel so much for someone who hired someone to kill you. How do you feel about me?" His arms trembled on either side of her head, his hands clenching her shoulders. He towered over her, but she showed no signs of fear. He let his head drop, staring at the carpet between them. Imam had slipped silently from the scene, opting to go down the hall to pray that both of them made it through this confrontation. Riddick just shook his head. "You swear you won't hurt her, even after she abandoned you, even after she tried to have you killed." She paused, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. "But you don't hesitate to hurt me." His arms quivered even more. "How can I promise not to hurt someone who's captured the attention of the man I've always loved, honestly loved. Not in the way she loves you, not as a hero, not as something you're not. I've loved you, murderer and all, I've accepted that part of you and I don't shy away from it." _Obviously,_ she thought, glancing at his hands still digging into her shoulders. "I've loved all of you - every part of the animal you are - no misconceptions, no sugar-coating. How can I promise not to hurt someone that you love more than me in spite of all that?" 

Her voice cracked. She'd almost made it all the way through. Almost. She didn't know how he could hold himself up with as badly as his arms were shaking. He'd not looked at her since she'd asked him how he felt about her. By now she was drained - physically and emotionally. She couldn't do this any more. His arms wrapped around her, pulled her from the wall, enclosing her entire body. His whole massive frame was trembling as he held her, nearly suffocating her, he was holding her against him so tightly. He pressed his cheek against hers, his eyes closed, as he picked her up off the ground. Her arms instinctively went around his shoulders, allowing him to expel all remaining air between them.

She pulled away from him slightly, touching her cheek. She hadn't let any tears break free, no matter how close she'd gotten. Her fingers then went to his face, tracing the features until she found the small stream on either cheek. Her face registered surprise, but he kept his eyes closed, sheltered from her vicious gaze. 

            But it wasn't vicious this time. She was confused, surprised, and scared at what she'd discovered - that Richard B. Riddick was capable of crying. Well, sort of. He wasn't blubbering like she had a few nights previously. But he was shedding tears. And she was touched by it. 

            "Talk to me," she whispered, pressing her cheek to his again, one hand drying his other cheek, her other hand caressing the back of his head and neck. He shook his head against her. "Please, talk to me, Riddick." She pushed his head away from hers, her hands still playing over his features. He was forcing a scowl, hoping to hide what he was feeling, but she saw through it. She leaned forward, touching the tip of her nose to his, watching his eyes open slowly.

            He was a little taken aback by the emotion in her eyes. Unsure of what it was, he just stared right back at her, determined to figure out what that expression was. Genuine concern. His lip quivered slightly, something she never thought she'd see.

            "I'm so sorry," he whispered. She shook her head.

            "I'm the one that should be," she returned. "I can't force you to love me the way I love you." She no longer tried to stop the tears, or keep the emotion from her voice. "I can't convince you to choose me over her."

            "But I do and I have," he insisted.

            "Have you?" He searched her eyes. It wasn't a sarcastic question, but one she wanted a genuine answer to. He sunk to his knees, still holding her against him, and she knelt above him, her arms still wrapped around his shoulders. They were both trembling. Neither was accustomed to admitting emotions so openly, much less to each other.

            "I don't love her the way I love you, Cass," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I may not know how to show it, but I know, somehow, that you have a part of me." He fumbled with his words every now and then, but Cassidy didn't interject. "I'm scared that I'll lose you again, but I don't know how to." he trailed off, searching for words, finally sighing. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing," he admitted. "Jack's a little sister to me. Nothing more, nothing less." She nodded, her lip trembling. "But you," he said quickly, "I can't describe it. You cloud up my head, and I can't keep my attention on anything else if you're anywhere near me. I'd risk my life again for Jack. But I'd kill everyone in the universe, including myself, for you." He shook his head, watching the tears slide down her cheeks. "But I don't know how to love you. I don't know what I'm doing with all of this. With Jack, it's just a protection thing, and that's easy. Just make sure she's okay. But you." he smirked slightly. "I don't know what to do with you." She returned the smile. "I don't know how to convince you to believe me, when you have no reason to, and I don't know how to show you, I can't explain to you, and." A heavy sigh. "All I can do is feel something for you. I don't remember what it feels like to be loved, so I don't remember how to show it." He took a breath to continue, but she placed a finger over his lips and shook her head.

            "All you have to do is love me, if that's how you feel."

            "But how?" She shook her head again.

            "There is no how," she said quietly. "There's no rules for _how_ you love someone, you just do it. Don't think about the angles, the strategies, the techniques. Just act."

            "But."

            "No, Riddick." She smiled, frustrated. "No how, just do." She watched him work those words over in his head - saw the wheels turning. "It's like survival. You just do it. Whatever it takes to survive is what needs to be done."

            "That's different," he insisted.

            "No it's not." She shook her head. "If you feel like something's threatening you, you run or get ready to fight, yes?" He nodded. "If you feel like you love me, just love me. Whatever you think that takes at that moment, do. It's that simple." He took a breath, but she shook her head. "Don't think, Riddick." Evidently, it finally sunk in. His lips pressed ever so lightly against hers, as if it was the first time he'd ever kissed anyone. She followed his lead, letting him try to figure things out on his own. It ended up being a simple, soft kiss, and he pulled away slowly, his arms tightening around her to bring her closer to him, just holding her. He finally let himself go, and just did what felt right. He cradled her against him, placing soft kisses against her shoulder, rocking slowly back and forth, his eyes squeezed shut.

            "God, I love you," he whispered.

            "I know you do."


	7. Chapter 7

Broken Promises

Chapter 7

            Imam looked over his shoulder quickly, guilt and fear fighting for all of his attention. Cassidy was behind him, out of the vid-phone camera's view, and Riddick stood behind the screen, towering over Imam, who was sitting somewhat hunched over in the chair sitting in front of the computer. Riddick nodded slowly, encouraging Imam to go ahead and make the call, even though his eyes and facial expression were dark and menacing. 

            In all honesty, Riddick was pissed. He'd stayed with Jack and Imam for three years after the crash, helping them save enough money to stay ahead and even send Jack off to pilot school. He didn't know she'd dropped out and kept cashing the financial aid checks to get out on her own. All he knew, and all he cared about, was getting her out of the situation she'd dug herself into with both him and Cassidy. 

            On the other hand, he knew that Jack's life was her own – she could do with it as she pleased. He couldn't help that, and he even realized he respected that. He just loved Cassidy too much for Jack to take the hit on her elsewhere. And he even had to admit that hiring him to kill Cassidy and Cassidy to kill him was a pretty imaginative plan. 

            Cassidy stared at Riddick from across the room, watching the fuzzy vid-phone screen in her peripheral vision. He glanced over at her from time to time but didn't say anything, and didn't give her any hint as to what he was thinking at any particular moment. But from the look on his face, he was pissed and nervous about how this might possibly go down. She knew that if this Jack chick was smart enough to hire them to kill each other, she might just anticipate the plan backfiring, especially knowing now they had an intimate relationship, and have an alternate plan in place for just this occasion. But unlike Imam, Cassidy didn't give off the slightest air of nervousness. She had her game-face on right now; her business face.

            The screen flashed green quickly before Jack's face came into view. Imam waited for the picture to stabilize and the three high-pitched tones to sound, indicating that the call was stable enough to continue with the conversation. Imam feigned his old self, before any of this had happened, so as to avoid alarming (or alerting Jack) into thinking something was up.

            "Imam," Jack said quickly. "I wasn't expecting a call from you." 

            "It's been to long, my child," Imam said with a convincingly bright smile. "How are you doing?"

            "Eh," Jack said, her virtual image shrugging slightly. "Not too bad."

            "And how is school?"

            "Imam," Jack whined. "Why do we always have to talk about that?" Imam laughed and nodded. "I was actually in the middle of something when you called. What's up?"

            "I have great news," Imam said quickly, as though he just couldn't wait to tell her. Jack's eyebrow rose, waiting for the 'great' news. "Mr. Riddick has returned for a short stay." Jack's face darkened, her brows furling together. "He can't wait to see you. Do you think you'll be able to make a trip home soon?" She cleared her throat. 

            "I don't suppose he has a friend with him," she suggested. 

            "No, Jack. Just him. He is disappointed you are not still here, but when I told him you were still in school he was very proud, albeit somewhat surprised that you'd stick with it," Imam added with a proud grin. "He always knew you were strong-willed. But he's glad you're making your own future."

            "Yeah, I'm making my own future all right," Jack mumbled. "Is he there right now?" Imam's face wavered for a second, but he caught it before it got to the point where the expression could be broadcast to Jack. Thank goodness for fuzzy pictures vid-phones had on extra-planetary connections.

            "Well, Jack," he started slowly, trying to come up with something quickly. "He decided to sleep for a while. I don't know where he was staying, but he said the transport was a long one." Jack looked surprised.

            "Oh."

            "He really wants to see you, Jack," Imam added quickly, hoping she would comply quickly. He didn't think he could keep up his act very much longer. He watched Jack reach for something that turned out to be a planner.

            "How long is he gonna be there?" she asked, flipping through the pages of her schedule.

            "I'm not exactly certain. He said something about one of his old friends trying to catch up with him," Imam added to make it clear to Jack that Riddick was alone (even thought he wasn't), "but then something about the friend getting caught by the authorities and having to leave the planet quickly to avoid his own capture. I don't know how long he can stay, given that he's still wanted, but he should be safe here for a while. Do you think you can make it soon?" Jack sighed.

            "I'll call and see if I can get on the next transport out there. I'll have them forward the information to you." Imam nodded, plastering an excited expression on his tired old features.

            "We are both looking forward to seeing you, child."

            "I miss you, too, Imam." And with that, the screen faded to snow and then completely black. Imam sighed, leaning back in his chair. The bridge of his nose was pinched tightly between two fingers.

            "You have coerced me to lie, Mr. Riddick. To my own daughter," he sighed.

            "She's not _your_ daughter," Cassidy corrected quickly. "Adopted isn't the same." Imam shook his head, not feeling like getting into a discussion, much less about the lack of virtue in lying for any reason.

            "Think of it this way, Holy Man," Riddick said, "You did what you had to do to protect us and her. If people find out she took out a hit on us – the right people, anyway – she could be in even more trouble than she thought she was putting us in."

            "I suppose you're right, Mr. Riddick," Imam relented. "But lying is still lying, and Allah forbids it."

            "So why'd you do it?" Cassidy pressed.

            "Because I have two wanted murderers in my house, neither of whom I completely trust," he said before standing and disappearing from the room. Riddick grinned at Cassidy, who just stared at him, the harsh expression making the grin melt off his face. 

            "I don't have a good feeling about this," she warned quietly. 

            "There's nothing to have a good feeling about," Riddick informed. "We just gotta play our cards right and hope to God she's smart enough to give this shit up."

            "And if she doesn't?"

            "Thank your lucky stars you're on New Mecca because that might be the only reason she _doesn't_ take care of us herself." Cassidy nodded slowly, then left Riddick standing in the Com room alone. He sat down in the chair before the vid-phone. They _had_ had a long transport – and a tense one at that. That wasn't a lie. Okay, so the part about him being alone was, but not the part about him really wanting to see her. He did, just not under these circumstances. He began to wonder what he could have done differently to have prevented this. Not leaving them wasn't an option – the mercs were closing in on his location. Visited more often? His reasoning for not was that he didn't want either Imam or Jack entangled in this web he'd created for himself. He didn't want mercs threatening them for information, or bribing them to get Riddick's whereabouts. Same problem with calling more often. He'd sent money, sent messages when he was sure they couldn't be traced. He was sure he'd done things the way they needed to be done. 

            And this still happened. Granted, if it hadn't, he probably would have been reunited with Cassidy. At this point, he didn't know what to think of the situation. At all. And that made him just a bit nervous. 

            Before he knew it, he was drifting off into a catnap mode…

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

Broken Promises

Chapter 8

            Jack sighed as the screen went blank. This was not going as planned. Cassidy was supposed to have killed Riddick days ago. What the hell went wrong? And where the fuck was Cassidy?

***

            Cassidy crept silently down the hallway, the dampness in the air making her hands clammy. Her eyes darted around the house, searching… searching… finding nothing. Good. All was going as planned. 

            Well, not _really_ as planned, but close enough to suit her fancy. It would all work out in the end. She hoped. Just a few more paces until the Com room…

            _SHIT._

            Riddick's head turned slightly, and she knew he knew she was there. His arm twitched, and his eyebrows knitted together and relaxed in a rhythmic pattern. A barely audible growl escaped him, and she watched him dream, fascinated.

***

            They were everywhere. No light, no fire. Just him. And Jack. And the darkness. He could feel them staring at the two of them, huddled closely together, Jack trembling against him. Her big doe-eyes stared up at him questioningly. He just looked down at her, a grim expression covering his handsome features. 

            "Don't move," he whispered, his lips barely moving. Her eyes nodded up at him, silently and motionlessly agreeing. 

            The stares continued.

            Disconcerting.

            Disorienting.

            Disturbing.

            Then all of a sudden, they vanished. Safety at last. With a quick nod, Riddick pulled Jack to her feet, nearly dragging her through the mud to get to a safer place – a place with light and warmth instead of the darkness and rain. Riddick wasn't scared of the dark. The dark was his element. But he knew Jack couldn't see anything except darkness, while he saw everything, even if it was distorted and discolored. She stumbled a few times, whimpering and grasping tightly to his fingers. He paused every time and helped her to her feet, finally flinging her over his shoulder. 

            Something tripped him. They both went diving head first into the mud. An evil laugh rang out, coming from all around, as though they were in a canyon or cave. Except they weren't. It was Fate laughing at them, knowing they would never make it in one piece. 

            Even as he dreamed, Riddick knew the meaning of this. It was his relationship with Jack. He wanted to save her, but only dragged her into the mud with him. She was better than he, and they both knew it. If they stayed together, neither of them would ever make it. He deciphered the dream as it unfolded. Unlike every other dream, this one continued past the point where they both fell.

            Jack stood and turned to look at him, lying in the mud, his chest heaving, gasping for oxygen. He yelled for her to continue. She knew the way. Keep moving. But she stayed, just watching him. And then he lurched forward, his hands going straight to the source of his pain – his heart. He'd been speared. By one of the creatures, speared right through the heart. He looked down at his hands. While normally they'd be covered in someone else's blood, this was his. He could smell himself in it. His eyes went back up to her, and she just looked down at him. No empathy, no remorse, no worry. She just looked at him blankly. And then with a disappointed shake of the head, as the lights began to appear, she turned and slowly, tortuously, deliberately walked away from him. A tear slid down his cheek as he whispered her name, but she was already gone.

***

            Cassidy still watched, even as the beads of sweat collected on his forehead. She was too stunned to move. He tossed and twitched in the chair, little whimpers and groans barely overpowering the silence. All of a sudden he stilled, his muscles taut, his breath coming in quick, short gasps. And then he whispered. Any other time, she wouldn't have been able to understand it, but now it was clear. 

            "Jack?"

            Her expression darkened, her hands clenching into fists and then releasing at her sides. Her nostrils flared, and her cheeks reddened. He let out a long, slow breath, and then jerked into awareness, sitting upright in the chair. Cassidy jumped back a few feet, startled.

            "Riddick?" she asked quietly. He turned, that cold, murderous, instinctual look that was Riddick overpowering his face. His features immediately softened as his eyes fell on her, and he collapsed back into the chair.

            "What are you doing up?"

            "I heard you dreaming and thought I'd check on you," she stammered quickly. "Make sure you were okay." He waved her off, as though dismissing her concern as unfounded. "You've never been one for nightmares." He chuckled slightly.

            "Tell me about it."

            "Are you going back to bed?" she asked.

            "No, I think I'm just gonna stay up for now." She nodded, somewhat disappointed, he supposed. "I'll be okay," he added. "Don't worry about me."

            "Right," she said quietly. 

            "Night," he gruffed. She returned the sentiment and headed back to her room. Okay, so things _weren't_ going as planned.


	9. Chapter 9

Broken Promises

Chapter 9

            Jack paused in front of the door. It felt like home. But she was nervous. And she knew exactly why. At this point, she didn't know if Riddick knew who was responsible for the hit on him. She wasn't even sure he knew there was one. _Fuck_. She sighed heavily, adjusted the backpack slung over her shoulder, and turned the knob on the door. 

            She knew Imam would be gone – he always had business during the days. And judging from past times, Riddick would be off somewhere doing Lord knows what to get them some more money. The thought of him made her stomach turn. She sighed again and dropped her bag next to the door. 

            Hours to waste. What would she spend the time doing? She plopped down in front of the computer and toodled around for a while until she heard the door open.

            "Imam?" she called timidly.

            "Hey Kid," came Riddick's reply. She cringed and swore under her breath before standing to greet him. 

            "Hey Riddick," she responded. He looked her up and down.

            "You grew up," he noted. She rolled her eyes. This routine again.

            "Yeah, people generally do that as they age," she smarted. He smirked. "What are you doing here?" He shrugged.

            "Got people on my tail again."

            "Imam said that," she interjected. "Why come back here instead of uncharted territory?" He smiled. _Still smart, at least_. 

            "Thought I'd just pay you two a visit before doing just that." He reached out, and she shied away quickly. His eyebrow rose. "What's with you?" he asked.

            "Been a while," she mumbled. He gave her a weird look and headed into the kitchen. She followed. 

            "How's school going?" Her eyes darted up to his. He grinned. "Or rather, how are the financial aid checks helping with rent?" She couldn't help but return the smile.

            "Promise not to tell Imam," she begged. He shook his head and laughed.

            "You remind me of me when I was your age," he said.

            "I try."

            "Don't," he said quickly. "You're better than that. You've got a whole life ahead of you. Don't try to waste it to be like me." She swallowed hard. 

            "I need to talk to you," she whispered. His eyebrow rose. "I don't know if you know this or not, but there's a hit out on you and you've got to be – "

            "Now, how would you know that?" came a voice from behind Jack. Riddick's eyes shifted behind Jack's shoulder and she whirled around.

            "Cassidy Hodge?" 

            "In the flesh," Cassidy grinned evilly. Jack turned back to Riddick, all color drained from her face. 

            "Riddick, you've got to listen to me – "

            "Now, why would he go and do a thing like that after what you did to him?" Cassidy interjected.

            "I didn't do anything to him," Jack fumed, turning back around to face the barrel of a gun. Her hands went up slowly.

            "'I didn't do anything to him'," Cassidy mimicked, a mocking look on her face. "Bullshit, Jack, and you and I both know it."

            "What's she talking about, Riddick?" Jack asked, her voice trembling. She didn't turn to face Riddick this time, keeping her gaze on the firearm pointed at her nose.

            "Where'd you get $35,000, Jack?" Riddick asked gently, walking around to stand in front of Cassidy, making a triangle of the three people standing in the kitchen. Jack's face registered confusion. 

            "What?"

            "The $35,000 for the hits, dear heart," Cassidy spat. "One on me, and one on Riddick."

            "That wasn't me," she insisted, turning to Riddick, her eyes meeting and holding his. "Riddick, you've got to believe me, please," she begged.

            "Oh, look. How cute," Cassidy said. "She's groveling."

            "Shut the fuck up, Cassidy," Riddick growled. Cassidy's eyes swung over to Riddick. 

            "Don't start protecting her again after all this, Riddick," she warned.

            "After all of what?" Jack asked.

            "_You_ need to shut the fuck up," Cassidy said quickly, her eyes shifting back over to the slight girl pressed up against the counter. "You know this needs to be done, Riddick. Are you gonna do this, or am I?" Riddick's eyes shifted between Cassidy's and Jack's.

            "Cassidy ordered the hits, Riddick, not me. That's why I had some friends of mine trying to hunt you down – to warn you. You gotta believe me. Riddick, you know I would never do this, just – "

            "Shut. Up." Both words came out of Cassidy's mouth in the form of a growl. Riddick looked over at her and then back to Jack, holding a hand up to Cassidy to silence her.

            "She ordered the hit on you and took it herself, and then she gave you the hit on her to make it easier to track you down. It was her, Riddick, not me. You know I could never do that to you."

            "So why did you quit school and start hoarding the money?" He ordered. She stammered and her eyes fell from his. "Jack…"

            "I was saving it so I could come with you and help you out on the skiff," she blurted, instantly turning a deep shade of crimson. 

            "Jesus Christ," Cassidy sighed. "You really think he's gonna buy that, kid?"

            "I was watching the whole time. She paid a prostitute to come in and play contact at the warehouse on Julian. She played the whole thing out to make you think it was me. Jesus, Riddick. C'mon. You know me."

            "You're making it a lot easier for me to decide I'm gonna do you kid," Cassidy informed. "Shut the fuck up."

            "She got you thinking that it was me so she could get you alone and kill you when the time was right," Jack said quickly. "I knew as soon as Imam called that something was wrong – that's why I asked if anyone was here with you. I new Imam was lying, and I knew I had to get here as soon as I could to warn you."

            Riddick was so busy staring at Jack, trying to figure out if she was telling the truth or not, when everything went into slow motion. He didn't even hear the gun go off. Cassidy's arm spun around just as Jack lunged toward him. She tackled him, straight to the ground, laying across his chest. Her eyes were wide, filled with fear, and Riddick just stared up at her.

            "Now we're even," she whispered, a strained smile crossing her blood stained lips before she collapsed fully onto him. He rolled out from underneath her.

            "Whew," Cassidy breathed, staring down at Jack's still body. Riddick glared at her as he approached her, and she glanced up at him. "You okay?" Before she could react, his hand snatched the gun from hers, sliding the clip from the handle. She just stared at it in his hands. "Riddick – "

            "I figured you would have learned by now, Cass," he said, his voice low. She shook her head, her eyebrow raised. "Kill the witness before she spills the beans." The room went dark for Cassidy as the butt of the gun struck the back of her head, her limp body falling to the floor. Riddick scooped Jack up into his arms, grabbed her backpack from beside the door, and hit the house alarm before walking down the sidewalk and then disappearing down the street.


	10. Finale

Broken Promises

Finale 

            Jack's eyes opened slowly, the lids heavy and swollen. Riddick's concerned face bent over hers came in and out of focus, and she struggled to steady her gaze on him.

            "Hey, Jack," he whispered. She grinned.

            "You said my name," she whispered back. He blinked. "You didn't call me 'kid,' you called me by my name." He smiled again, a pained expression still showing through.

            "How you feelin'?" She shrugged.

            "Like I'm in a jar of molasses." He snickered.

            "You're on quite a bit of stuff right now. Doc's gonna take care of you." She didn't know who Doc was, or where he was for that mattered. All that mattered was the concerned face staring down at her. The silvery eyes focused on her green ones. Her brow furled and she tried to sit up, but was restrained with a gentle push by Riddick's massive arm. She marveled at how the muscles rippled as it flexed and, struggling, her fingers ran down toward his shoulder, following the deep grooves. He started and then relaxed, finding her hand and enclosing it in his. His skin was warm and dry against her cold, clammy palms.

            "Where's Imam?"

            "He's safe."

            "What happened to Cassidy?" His features darkened, but she didn't take the question back. 

            "I cashed her in." Jack's eyes widened.

            "You what?"

            "You and Imam get to split her bounty."

            "Did you – ?" Jack's eyes revealed the rest of her question, and he shook his head.

            "Good smack to the back of the head with the butt of a gun will knock you out for a while. She'll feel it when she wakes up." 

            "I'm sorry, Riddick." Jack gave his hand a feeble squeeze. "I tried to warn you sooner, but I couldn't track you down?"

            "How did you know?"

            "I told you when you left I had your back," Jack said. "One thing school was good for was hacking. I ran across an encoded message, decoded it, and it was Cassidy's original offer on you. No one took it. I did some asking around and found out there was a hit on you and on her as well. Did some more hacking and figured out it was all a plan of hers."

            "You shouldn't have done that, Jack," Riddick sighed. "Who did you talk to?" Jack attempted a shrug. "My guess would be the wrong people." Jack's eyebrow rose, as though she objected to his idea. "Anyone who would know would be the wrong people. Your ass is in just as much of a sling as mine is right now. People start wondering what a kid like you is doing asking about a hit on someone like me, and that's never a good thing." Jack gave him a sheepish grin.

            "I guess you'll have to take me with you then," she said.

            "We'll see," Riddick said. Jack sighed. At least he gave her that much.


End file.
